


Oh What's A Man To Do

by blanchtt



Series: Minific Prompts [7]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Canon Timeline, F/F, Minor Delphine Cormier/Cosima Niehaus, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:36:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8202362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanchtt/pseuds/blanchtt
Summary: In any other situation it’d be the perfect opportunity to finally get some sleep, her exhausted body slipping into it with ease.





	

 

 

 

The Rabbit Hole is still and quiet. From her room located underneath the storefront, Sarah can hardly hear anything - just an occasional car driving by breaking the oppressive silence.

 

She stares up at the ceiling in the dark, frowns, closes her eyes and keeps them closed. In any other situation it’d be the perfect opportunity to finally get some sleep, her exhausted body slipping into it with ease. Nobody breaking down their door. She’s sleeping in a real bed. Kira’s next door, safe and sound, along with Mrs. S and Felix and Helena and Alison. Sarah shifts, frowns again, and shoulders against the mattress. But tonight sleep eludes her, and at almost one in the morning the yawning emptiness of everything only unsettles her more.

 

It’s dark, enough so that Sarah can’t see Cosima lying next to her in bed. But she’s certainly there, because Sarah can hear her turning, the barest rustle of sheets, the creak of the bedsprings, the sigh as she settles and goes quiet. With all of her movement Sarah wonders if she’s not the only one awake, and likely not the only one wrestling with that late-night sense of loneliness, of being the only one left awake in some awful sleepless purgatory. 

 

Sarah licks her lips, takes a breath.

 

“You gonna be alrigh’?”

 

It’s a stupid question, really, but they’re the only words she can think of to offer. Anything else would fall flat. She hears Cosima turn in bed, and in the weak orange light coming in through the slit of a barred window, Sarah sees the shadowy curve of Cosima’s shoulder, the dark color of her dreds splay against the pillow, the unhealthy pallor of her skin. Cosima’s voice comes from close by, but Sarah angles toward her anyway, and can practically feel Cosima’s breath on her cheek. 

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Cosima speaks with an uncharacteristic flatness to her words, intonation listless and disinterested, and Sarah feels unease sweep over her. If there’s anyone they can count on to stay positive through all this shite, it’s Cosima. 

 

There aren’t going to be tears tonight. No. Not on her watch. 

 

“C’mere.” Sarah reaches out, and it happens so smoothly it surprises even her. Cosima moves to nestle against her as she wraps an arm around her, and in the blink of an eye she’s got Cosima practically wrapped around her, head tucked under her chin. 

 

Cosima’s dreds scratch light against her jaw as Sarah swallows, breathes out, and tries to relax. She’s got awful timing. Always has. She lays her free hand on Cosima’s shoulder, wonders if it’s appropriate but does it anyway, and starts to run her hand palm-down across Cosima’s back. “She’s alive, yeah?” she tells her. Mrs. S and her bleedin’ war games leave no room for hope, and apparently it’s up to her to remind Cosima that without a body anything’s possible. 

 

“She _was_ ,” Cosima says thickly, and Sarah ignores it. 

 

“You feel it, don’t you?” 

 

It’s not a question as much as it is a confirmation. She’s done the same. There’s always been that little thread to Kira, no matter how far away she’d wandered or for how long. It’s the only reason she rests somewhat easy now, every fibre of her body certain, assuaged, that Kira is in the next room. And Felix and Helena, too, felt no less strongly, but differently, somehow. She feels Cosima’s head tilt up, the bridge of her nose press against her chin. 

 

_And Cosima, too._

 

“I don’t think I feel anything anymore,” Cosima admits, but her words are uncertain, as if she’d like to believe the opposite but something holds her back. 

 

Back when Mrs. S still tried to help her with her homework, the two of them sitting at the kitchen table struggling through one worksheet until it was dark outside, Sarah remembers Mrs. S chuckling at her answers. It’d made her want to push back her chair and leave, to say fuck it all and give up, but Mrs. S had seen it, had laid a hand on hers still clutching the pencil and said _it’s the right answer, chicken._ And Mrs. S had laughed because she’d gotten a trick question right, pointing out the correct answer with ease. 

 

_You got people who’ll get stuck in their own heads, turning each question over and over for a hidden answer. Sometimes the answer’s just B. Simple as that._

 

“Liar,” Sarah says, swift and strong, and after a heartbeat’s pause, it gets a dry laugh from Cosima. That stiff upper lip nonsense isn’t all garbage, apparently. She continues running her hand up and down Cosima’s back, selfish, as she tilts her head down, lips nearly touching Cosima’s forehead. She can pretend, in the dark, like she’s unsure of how close they really are, and Cosima doesn’t pull away. “What’s your gut tell you?”

 

“She’s not gone,” Cosima murmurs, and the arms around her waist hold tighter, although Cosima does reach up awkwardly, aborting the motion, and Sarah assumes she’d meant to push up her glasses out of habit and forgotten she wasn’t wearing them. “Otherwise I’d feel it, wouldn’t I?”

 

“Damn right.” If anyone ever touched a hair on Kira’s head again, she’d know. If anyone dared to try to take one more thing from Helena, she’d know. And if Delphine were dead, and Cosima were well and truly hurting, she’d know. “Trust yourself and stop crying, yeah?” Sarah says, and shoulders up against Cosima. “You know Evie Cho’s a lying bitch.”

 

Cosima laughs, that pretty sound that’s become so rare, and hands grasp at the back of her shirt. “You’re right,” Cosima agrees, all at once calm again, her usual self. “And you’re oddly good at giving advice.” And now it’s her turn to suffer, because Cosima begins to play with the fabric of her shirt, twisting it between her fingers. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

 

Sarah lets out a breath, what’s meant to be a laugh but doesn’t quite make it as in the dark she catches the sliver of Cosima’s smile, excited like she hasn’t seen her in days, the heavy air of sadness gone from her. And it feels like a punch to the stomach, because she's caused it, yeah. But the smile is not _for_ her. Brilliant eyes hold a far-away look to them, hazy and happy and leaving Sarah far, far behind. 

 

_Sometimes the answer’s just B. Simple as that._

 

“I think you’re the first,” Sarah admits, and closes her eyes.

 

 

 


End file.
